Another PostReichenbach
by Anataria
Summary: Yaaay, try not to celebrate too hard.
1. Chapter 1

**Soooo, this is my first posted fanfic. I've been writing and exchanging stories with friends since I was 12, and they've been nagging me increasingly as it draws to the decade mark to post. Apparently it's a coming of age thing.**

**Please don't flame. I would love criticism, suggestions, etc.**

**I'm writing for the amusement of myself, my lover, and my friends. Hoping someone out there will enjoy this.**

**Dedicated to all my favorite fanfiction writers and the stories that inspire us all.**

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><p>"<strong>Anytime you people take me somewhere, I hate it. I'm glad you're not my travel agent."<strong>

"**Doctor Watson, could you kindly shut up." Mycroft redirected his attention to the maid standing in the foyer of the heavily fortified rural mansion, threatening them with a bat. "You, look. It's right on the board, there, that a doctor is coming."**

**He gestured with his umbrella at the out-of-place wipe board that covered most of a side table. "He's here to see you and one of the other guests."**

**She didn't lower the crude weapon. "He's a surgeon, and you're a slimy politician. If you're going to try to lie, at least do it well."**

**Unnoticed, Watson smiled softly. Whoever the maid in the blue uniform was, she reminded him.**

**Mycroft sighed and pulled a length of wide, blue ribbon out of his pocket. "Let us in, Dear."**

**As soon as the ribbon came out, she lowered the bat, expression confused but more placid. "He can't come in."**

"**He's with me, Dear."**

"**Okay." She placed the bat near the wipe board.**

"**Can you take us to him?"**

"**Who?"**

"**Him."**

**The back of Watson's neck started crawling.**

**The maid uncertainly nodded, concernedly frowning. "I think I know who you mean…"**

**Watson got an incidental tour of the house as she lead them through various living spaces, up a back flight of stairs, and down a long hallway, stopping every once in a while to stare at a door before moving on. It was a fancy place, like most of Mycroft's usual haunts. It looked like an old manor. Finally, she paused in front of the right door. Why this one was correct was a mystery.**

**She knocked twice before calling, "Someone's here for you, Sir. I know one of them is strange."**

"**I know."**

**Watson stiffened.**

**The door swung open, and Sherlock locked eyes with him, resigned.**

"**You fucking jackass!"**

**Pushing past the maid, John tackled him and started pummeling his chest.**

**The maid broke it up surprisingly fast with a few well-placed jabs on John's torso. "Don't touch him!" she spat, defensively standing in front of Sherlock. He patted her shoulder absentmindedly.**

**Mycroft chose that moment to explain. "He didn't have any choice. After the affair with Mr. Moriarty-"**

"**I thought you were dead!" Watson spat. "I buried you!"**

"**Please, John. You're better than this."**

"**You know why it had to be like this."**

**John suddenly shoved his hands in his jacket pockets and turned his head away. "I should have expected it. I did, I had a feeling you were alive, you're too smart to get forced into killing yourself, I expected you to turn up. I did. But two years? Two years, you let me-" He broke it off with a hiss, trying to find something to glare at.**

**Mycroft was casually wandering around the spacious bedroom. "Still having trouble sleeping, little brother?"**

"**Yes."**

"**If I could have sent you a message, I would have. I tried. The only successful opportunity I had was just after it all occurred and then it was too soon."**

"**People had to see you mourn or they would have known something was wrong."**

"**Would you like some tea?" the maid offered, coming through a doorway that lead to a bathroom with a hamper of dirty clothes.**

"**Yes, May, thank you, and some light food." Sherlock continued to gaze at Watson. "The green room should do."**

"**Tea and snacks in the green room, yessir," she nodded to herself, heading out the door.**

"**It's Sherlock."**

"**Oh! Thanks!"**

**Mycroft regarded the doctor with a calm, slightly apologetic expression. "You'll be here for a short time. Pick a room. All necessities will be supplied to you, including a medical kit."**

"**Are you sick?" John demanded, apprehensive.**

**Sherlock scoffed. "I'm not dying, John. It's not a soap opera, I'm not coming back into your life just to off it for real. You should already know who needs the medical attention."**

**He turned his head to Mycroft, who raised an eyebrow. "You have your own doctors, so it's someone here. The maid?"**

"**Yes."**

**Backtracking, he scowled. "Wait, I can't just stay here. Susan will be worried sick-"**

**Mycroft coolly waved him off. "I've sent her a message. You were called in for an emergency at the surgery, someone in a car accident, and when you wake up, having fallen asleep in a cot after a long shift, there will be another note saying there were more complications and you were needed again."**

"**Manipulative bastards."**

**They quietly went downstairs, John glaring at the Holmes brothers, and went into another elegant room. Soon after, the maid came in, arranging trays of pastries, sandwiches, and snacks around a tea set. **

**Sherlock was the first to speak. "I did try to send a note. On a parakeet, addressed to you, saying 'I am alive. Unable to visit.'"**

**Before John could respond, the maid slapped Sherlock's shoulder with a napkin, scowling as she handed it to him. "Is that where my right bird went?"**

"**I made it up to you."**

"**A sparrow is not a pet bird. I know a wild bird when I see one."**

"**Just because one is drab and the other was blue," he muttered, sipping his tea.**

"**All my things are blue, and that thing is obviously wild."**

"**You kept it, so we're even." **

**Mycroft cleared his throat. "I need to be leaving. I'll be back to collect John in two days."**

**While the maid quickly slipped out with the two extra cup sets she'd brought, Sherlock faux-grinned up at his brother. "Did you bring me any treats?"**

"**I brought you John."**

"**Very well." Sherlock went back to his tea.**

"**Can I have my phone back?"**

"**No."**

"**There's no phones allowed in here," Sherlock informed him.**

**John frowned. "I have no say in all this, do I?"**

"**No," they echoed.**


	2. Chapter 2

"**Am I always going to be some sort of toy for you two? I get dragged here to check up the maid, and keep you company for a bit, and then he'll pop me down somewhere between the hospital and my flat to get a taxi home and pretend I was in surgery, so you stay secret."**

**Sherlock waited until he had set down his cup. "You came for the maid and also because it's time for me to leave. He expects you to help me."**

**John choked. "He's letting you out?"**

"**I demanded it. I've been making too much trouble here, so he has to let me."**

"**How-"**

"**You know what all I get into."**

"**No, I am well aware of your ability to destroy and irritate. I mean, how does he expect to let you free?"**

"**He'll have enough monitoring on me to know I won't be a concern, for the most part. The surgery was done a few months back," he waved at his face, "and I'll be forced to cut and dye my hair, maybe grow some facial hair. A fake identity will be made, he'll probably have some sort of safe house all set up, probably near you."**

"**How do you know?"**

"**He's only visited five times in the twenty-five months I've been here, and this time didn't bring me anything. You know how I am when I'm bored. The maid is stable, the supposed doctoring need is fake, so you're here to get used to me being alive and get started hiding me."**

**He sipped the tea again. "I hate you."**

"**Not as much as I loved knowing you were coming." Sherlock poured himself another cup. "Originally, I was told I was going to stay here for the rest of my life."**

"**It's not such a bad place. I'd enjoy a vacation here."**

"**No communication with the outside world, dogs and men with guns keeping you in, and the only thing that comes and goes are groceries, garbage, and Mycroft. It's a prison, with the most hateful warden possible."**

**Incredulous, John scoffed. "You have a maid!"**

"**She's just as much a prisoner as I am."**

"**How is the maid a prisoner?"**

"**She's some sort of operative that the Americans want dead, never mind she has a most unlikely form of amnesia. Providential, for Mycroft. She can maintain the place and never know who's here, who's visited, or most of what's really going on."**

"**Oh." John set down his tea and began looking around. The place was immaculate, the tea and foods perfect. "What's wrong with her?"**

"**Depressed skull fracture, major concussion. Her ability to remember things long-term is crippled, and she's been trained to behave around here. She's been here almost ten years."**

"**That- She would have been a child!"**

"**She just looks young. She's about thirty."**

"**Yes, a child! Who wants a twenty-year old dead, and how could Mycroft do this to her?"**

"**She's comfortable here, the surroundings have seeped into her memory and are familiar, and it works out for him." Sherlock languidly picked up the violin placed by his chair. "Think, John."**

"**It is a bit better than her being in a nursing home, or assassinated."**

"**The Americans think she's dead by now, but if she were recognized, it would be dangerous. What you said is true, otherwise." He began to play, softly.**

**The place was nice, but boring. After a walk around the expansive gardens, stopping in front of the manor, Sherlock sighed. "I suppose you want lunch now and after that it'll be the best time to examine her."**

"**What's her name?" John followed him in.**

"**She doesn't have one."**

"**How can she not have a name?"**

"**She doesn't remember it, on any level. If you want to call her anything, it's fine." Coat still on but scarf in hand, Sherlock grimly smiled. "Watch. Polly! Polly, I need you!"**

"**Uh, I'm coming!" came from the back of the house. A few moments later, she appeared in the hallway Sherlock had lead him down. "Yes, sir, Sher…?"**

"**Sherlock. You know you don't have to call me sir, Helen. John would like some lunch."**

"**I made Welsh meat pastries," she hopefully offered, wiping her hands on her slightly dirty apron. "With the beef and Brussels sprouts."**

**He looked surprised. "Did you have it written down?"**

**She grinned, giggling a bit and fiddling with her skirt. "Yes. I'm so glad I found that note in the cookbook. You'll actually have some? I thought maybe you and the doctor would like it."**

"**Please."**

"**I'll bring it into the gold room."**

"**Bring it on a trolley. I want you to eat with us."**

"**Cool!" she jumped a bit as she scurried off.**

**The second door she passed, Sherlock opened to reveal a formal dining room decorated in shades of gold.**

"**So, she knows the house, and she knows the rooms by their colors?"**

"**Yes. She can't remember if you tell her to bring it to the dining room. She just can't hold onto the information, for some reason, but if you tell her a color she can retain it for a few minutes."**

"**Is that why she brought so many cups, for the tea?"**

"**Yes, five cups. She didn't know how many to bring, she couldn't remember how many people were there, but she knows the green room has five chairs."**

**It clicked. Suddenly, John looked around the large room. "Don't tell me she's going to bring fifty plates of Welsh pie!"**

"**No, she won't." Sherlock seated himself at the head of the table, nearest the large windows, and gestured for Watson to sit nearby. "Wait for it. I'm going to have to remember to hide that note if we don't want her finding it again tomorrow."**

"**Why doesn't she write things down?"**

"**Any writing utensils get confiscated. She wrote it with melted chocolate."**

**A moment later, a servants door opened and the girl entered, pushing a trolley. Two covered dishes were on top, and John could hear the soft clinking of table settings from the trolley shelves. She smiled, coolly, at him and began setting the table, placing a bath with a bottle of wine near Sherlock and a water pitcher in the middle of the table.**

"**Set it for three, Samantha."**

**She looked surprised, and glanced again at John. "Is he your guest?"**

"**Yes. I'm sure we'll have some wonderful conversation."**

"**Great. I hate eating silently." Instantly, she relaxed, filling a plate with two delicate pastries and a dish of Brussels sprouts. **

"**You could do what I do and talk to yourself."**

"**Not with a guest!" **

**John shook his head. "You two seem to be good friends."**

**They exchanged a look, Sherlock's curious, the maid's affectionate as she filled a second plate, having set the first in front of Sherlock. "I… I know I can't remember much, but he's in my memory, like this house. I don't remember him as well as I can remember the house and gardens, but I know his voice and a bit how he looks."**

**Sherlock cocked his head. "What do you remember, when it's been a while?"**

**John leaned back as she settled his food in front of him, watching her.**

"**Your long hair, and that you're different looking. I remember long coats, and silk shirts, and that you never wear a tie." She blushed slightly. "Why am I so embarrassed?"**

"**I would blame the time you walked in on me in the bath."**

"**Sorry!"**

"**Don't worry about it, Carla."**

"**Well, this food looks fantastic, sit down."**

**She slipped into her seat with her own plate. "So, you know each other?"**

**The conversation proceeded in a slow way, between bites and sips.**

"**Sherlock's my best friend."**

**She looked confused. "But… I thought he's been here."**

"**He has. Absence didn't change things."**

"**So sweet, that he's been thinking of you for so long." She straightened abruptly. "Are you two-"**

"**No! Oh, Christ, will the gay jokes ever stop? We are not a couple!"**

"**John apparently has a bride at home."**

"**Are you enjoying living together?"**

"**I'm sure he is." Sherlock's eye twinkled.**

"**Just having someone else around, knowing they're there, makes you feel better. I would go insane if Sherlock wasn't here."**

**John and he exchanged a look.**

"**But you can barely remember."**

"**But, I know someone is here, a friend. Sherlock being here sunk in, like walking on a thick lawn every day in the same spot will wear a path." She pointed a fork at Watson. "Just knowing someone is here is enough. It's still boring and a bit lonely, but I'm not going to go crazy. Have you ever lived alone?"**

"**Yes, but it was in London."**

"**Wasn't it still a bit lonely?"**

"**Yes," he admitted. "I'd open the windows just to let some street noises in."**

"**And living with your wife, you have someone, even when you're fighting."**

**He chuckled and nodded, "True."**

**Sherlock solemnly stared at her, still eating, until they were done eating or, in his case, refusing to eat more.**

"**I don't think I made dessert." She frowned thoughtfully. "Is it lunch or dinner?"**

"**Lunch."**

"**Ah. I usually only make dessert for dinner. Would you two mind leftovers from lunch for dinner?"**

**John shook his head. "No, not terribly. That was great."**

"**Okay, then I'll make something nice for dessert. Then you two can talk."**

"**I know there's a flat available beside mine. Third floor, nice area."**

"**Where are you living?"**

"**Still in Marylebone, near Hyde Park."**

**Sherlock smirked a bit. "Expensive area."**

"**Susan insisted. We plan on staying there, so our children will have regular park outings."**

"**I love the idea."**

"**What?" Had he suddenly taken an interest in John's future, one away from him?**

"**Mycroft has to pay my keep. I love the thought of making him shell out a huge amount."**

**Of course not. Just more of his machinations. "If we disguise you well enough, you could find work."**

"**I doubt I could be that discreet. Besides, Mycroft occasionally has government people consult with me when he's too busy." **

"**You could find other work over the internet. God knows I don't want you bored." He frowned at a distant roaring. "What's that noise?"**

"**Prissy is vacuuming. Over the internet I can't see the details."**

"**You'll figure something out."**

**Sherlock picked up his violin and began twanging at it. John ignored him, having settled in with a cup of tea and a reprint of an antique medical volume on herbs from the library.**

**A good twenty pages later, someone tapped on the Green Room's door.**

"**Come in, Ruby."**

**She stepped in, smiling, and nodded at John. "Sir, it's getting towards evening and I have you marked down as staying overnight. I was wondering if you'd picked a room."**

"**Well, I don't think there's one in this place I'd dislike," he cheerfully remarked. "Just put me near Sherlock."**

"**Yessir."**

"**Call me John!"**

"**I'll try!" she laughed, closing the door.**

"**She's a sweet thing."**

"**She is cheerful."**

"**She seems to work like a dog."**

"**She's restless and likes to keep moving. The work takes her mind off the memory issues."**

"**That goes along with most medical advice."**

"**Is there anything else?" Sherlock frowned, thumb impatiently strumming. "Medically, anything you can tell me."**

**John set his book down, thinking. "She's mostly like a normal person. She should exercise, eat right, keep busy and have hobbies. I don't have the medical equipment to get a good idea-"**

**He abruptly laid down his violin to leap across the room. In some drawer in the cabinets, he found what he was looking for. "There's copies of MRI's, PET, and CAT scans here."**

"**Hers?"**

"**Yes."**

**A few minutes later, he sighed. "The damage you're talking about is apparent, but I'm not a neurologist. There's no blood clots in the 2010 images, and her skull isn't pressing directly on her brain. Anymore." He winced at the first scan again. "Any help I can give would be based around her behavior, aside from the memory issues. Does she faint, get dizzy often, nausea, any vision or hearing loss?"**

"**She has dizzy spells and is deaf in her right ear."**

"**Any loss of consciousness?"**

"**Not that I know of." Sherlock sat down and thrummed at the violin again.**

"**In that case, given how old the injury is, I would say she's stable." A moment later, he lowered his book. "You know your leaving is going to affect her."**

"**I realize this, John. Let me think."**

**That explained the broody strumming. "Tell me if I can help."**

**Sometime later, after a thunderstorm, John set his book to the side. "I need to stretch my legs."**

"**There's a gym in the basement."**

**John turned and chuckled at him. "You're sure you're not going to miss this?"**

"**The boredom?"**

"**The being spoiled rotten and relaxation. You are living a dream life and pooh-poohing it because you've never been able to entertain yourself!"**

"**We play games," a small voice piped up behind him.**

**He spun and saw the maid, uncertainly leaning into the room.**

"**I came to tell you, your things are settled in your room. If you're bored, maybe you should look around," she offered. "Ooh! Sherlock, make up a game for us!"**

**In his chair, he wrinkled his nose. "I've bested you far too many times at Hide the Skull. I don't know…"**

"**Tag? We have enough people."**

"**I'm a little old for tag," John regretfully noted.**

**The blue girl laughed. "I won't tell!"**

**Sherlock stretched, walking around John towards the door. "I suppose we can find something to do." He suddenly tapped John's shoulder and darted off, howling, "Tag!"**

**Herself squealed and ran down the opposite way, climbing the stairs.**

"**This is abuse of a cripple, you know! Can't we play cards?"**

**A giggle floated down the nearest set of stairs. "Shut up and run, old man," the girl tauntingly laughed.**

**Exhaustion laced everyone's face as they gathered over tea.**

"**Thank you, Mary."**

"**You're welcome, Sherlock."**

"**Yes, Mary, thank you for the tea." John bit into a tiny muffin. "You didn't know his name this morning."**

"**It's that way every morning. She generally re-learns it by lunchtime."**

**Silent, she shrugged, blowing on her cup before adding more sugar.**

**The bath had to have a brain intent on making him fall asleep so he would drown. The blue maid, and he decided he had to pick a name for her, had stocked the bathroom with his favorite bath products, as well as his wife's.**

**Accustomed to Mycroft's spying, he accepted it and decided to make sure Sherlock checked their bedroom for bugs and cameras. And the bathroom. And the living room.**

**So, he sprayed her perfume in the air and relaxed in the hot bath. He spent at least forty-five minutes in it, listening to an ancient tape deck and going through the box of tapes he'd found beside it in the hall.**

**It was frustrating, not to be able to call Susan to wish her a good-night.**

**Aside from that, there was also no news radio to listen to or newspaper to read. Pencils and paper, he couldn't find, just as Sherlock had said. Even his London International pen was gone from his jacket pocket. Damned Mycroft.**

**Fine. He'd just go raid the fridge for some leftover pudding and cheesecake.**

**How was Sherlock not fat, living here? Skinny bastard.**

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><p>I find myself in the position of begging for reviews. I know at least one person has looked at this fic twice- once Saturday and once Sunday (today). Please tell me what you think, o phantom? I don't care if it's in Hebrew, I'll translate it. I want to know what people think of this. Someone other than my coddling friends.<p>

I suppose I should put any long author notes at the end of the page, that way to let you get more quickly to my awful writing.

My wee baby sister, the one I've been raising since I was 16 and she was four days old (looking very much like a malnourished, plucked chicken with a turtle's head) dislikes my ardent return to fanfiction writing. She's a clever little thing and likes adding pages of empty space to the beginning of my writing, so when I reopen it it looks like it's gone and I forgot to save. Little brat. She gets me EVERY TIME.

The head injury in the story is a cross between one I received when I was 12 and the fictional one in 50 First Dates. Having real life experience, though not memories, of GTA is helping me write this story realistically. My family tells me about it, I have generalized, faint memories, and there are hysterically funny videos.

Global Transient Amnesia, when it's not very 'transient', leaves you using evidence to figure out where, when, etc. you are. Hence why I love Sherlock. I have to use similar skills to identify friends, given that I can't remember names or faces. I managed to learn the little girl I'm raising's features when she was in that 2-5 year old range and didn't grow much, just staying petite and chubby. I sometimes only recognize her now, after a considerable growth spurt, by her similarities to the toddler I remember and her presence in my house. What other little girl would be wandering around my place?

I've moved several times now and have to figure out where I am every morning when I wake up. I'm in love with my PDA, Smartphone, and calendar. The Wee One is a tiny genius and impatiently reminds me of things I've forgotten. Like it being Saturday, I obviously forgot to turn off my alarm, and NO, she does not have to go to kindergarten today! How I'm considered a competent guardian, much less a decent writer, stuns me. I'm constantly thankful for the former.

Before someone flames me on it, I didn't give birth to this child. I inherited her. She is both adoring and scornful of me, and somehow it works. She's my memory and I'm her caretaker.


	3. Chapter 3

**Someone shook John awake, a hand over his mouth.**

"**Mmm!"**

"**Sh. We need to hide all evidence of your being here and vacate the residence by the time Mary wakes."**

"**Why?" He fumbled for the light, but Sherlock grabbed his hand. **

"**No lights. The guards shouldn't know what we're up to."**

**Before he could demand a reason, a stack of clothes were pushed into his hands.**

"**I have one of the pickup boxes. I'll put your things in it- hurry and hand me your night clothes and robe. You get dressed and we'll make the bed."**

"**Why?"**

"**Isn't it obvious?" A drawer quietly slid shut.**

**Watson tried not to trip, putting his feet into pants in the dark. They must have been dried a little too long. His realization made him instantly demand, "How long are you going to carry out this experiment? It's cruel to her."**

**From the bathroom, Sherlock murmured, "It's imperative that I know how a full day alone would affect her. No fresh detainees are coming, or a delivery of new clothes would have been made a few hours ago. I already erased any evidence of us from her wipe board, and disposed of the note from the cookbook. There's no evidence we were here." As soon as John had his sweater on, again a bit tight, Sherlock called from the other side of the bed, "Come on! Fluff up the pillow on your side and grab the sheet when you're done."**

**He felt the blanket be yanked off the bed. "It can't carry on too long. We can't watch her-"**

"**You can't, I can. I know she will forget a day's pain by tomorrow, but I need to know the extent of grieving my leaving would cause her to go through."**

"**You're planning something."**

"**Wrong." They aired the sheet and settled it.**

"**Toss the blanket?"**

"**Too messy. Foot of the bed."**

**He rolled his eyes but obeyed, meeting him halfway and drawing up what he was handed. "I forgot who I was dealing with. You've probably got three separate plans."**

"**Five, but only four strong ones. All of them will make Mycroft furious, but I need to make sure not to irritate anyone in MI6 or FID too much."**

**What followed was painful, literally and physically. Sherlock had them hiding on the grounds, watching the manor. They watched the lights come on.**

**They heard, faintly, the calling.**

**Within a few hours, she was running around the outside of the grounds, calling, "I know you're somewhere! Where are you?"**

**They ran ahead of her, hiding in ditches and bushes. **

**After that, she went through each room, slowly. Screaming from the front door didn't soften Sherlock's heart, though John pestered him to give it up.**

"**This isn't like leaving me, Sherlock. I had a life. She has nothing but a memory of you!"**

"**Quiet, I need to know!"**

**It was when she turned out all the lights in the house, hours after night had fallen, that he finally called it.**

"**We need to be quick."**

"**I've been laying under a bush for hours, and now you want me to run?"**

**Following the lights he had switched on John bumped into Sherlock in the upper hallway. The blue maid ran out of what had been his bedroom so fast she hit the wall.**

**As soon as she saw them, her red-rimmed eyes fixed on Sherlock. For a heartbeat, her mouth hung open. Before he could react, she had her arms locked around him and was sobbing into his coat.**

"**Mary, calm down."**

"**Locke," she sobbed. "Locke!"**

**John raised an eyebrow. "It's not all of it but she remembers your name."**

**Her fist started, slowly, hitting his chest, the blows too gentle to hurt.**

"**I'm here. Why-"**

"**You hid from me!" she wept, barely loosening her hold by an inch. "I looked everywh-where!"**

**He barely put his arms around her, frowning. She was shaking.**

"**Mary, how did you-"**

**Crumpling, she whimpered into his coat. "You're leaving."**

"**Now how did she know all that?"**

"**You worked hard to hide from me. You hid all day, and now you showed up, on purpose. There's a strange man you know well by you, and he recognized me and wasn't surprised that I didn't know him. He's here to help get you. You're going away." She clenched her arms around him again. "No one came or left, all day. My wipe board was clean of any notes-"**

"**I knew there was something I forgot."**

**She released him, abruptly, at that, and stared at him. Her right hand clenched and unclenched, undecided. "You set up a test and watched me. You're deciding something."**

"**You know what, Bonnie," he whispered.**

"**Take me with you."**

"**It won't be easy. I might not be able to manage it. You'll be scared, out there. You've been here ten years."**

**Her eyes widened in shock, then focused on his face. "I was scared, here. I was about to hurt myself-"**

"**I figured that out. Laura, you'll be in a strange house, in a strange city. Things have changed."**

"**I'm not staying alone."**

"**You used to. You were here, at least six years, alone."**

"**I knew that you were here, Locke. I knew you existed." The tilt of her head, the line of her mouth and shadows in her eye, held a threat John remembered seeing on many faces. "You're **_**not**_** leaving me!"**

"**Very well."**

"**No! I'm not just saying that, don't you dare disregard it and toss it off with two words." She grabbed the sides of his face and frantically searched his eyes. "You're not leaving me here! Promise me!"**

"**I won't leave you here."**

"**Promise me I can always go with you. You'll never leave me behind."**

"**I can't promise you that."**

"**Promise you'll never leave me behind."**

"**Or what?"**

"**You know I can do horrible things if I want to." She glared at him. "Promise me you'll never leave me behind."**

**He sighed. "Anne, I do dangerous things. I can't-"**

"**Every single thing you can imagine me doing. To you, your things, or your friend." Her voice was hard.**

"**Uh, I'm not part of this-"**

"**Yes, you are, even if you're just a pawn. Locke, promise me you'll never leave me behind. Don't make me so sad again."**

**He blinked and steadily met her stare. "I promise, I will never leave you behind."**

"**Don't break that promise," she warned, releasing him and wiping her face with her apron.**

"**On my honor."**

"**And no manipulating my words."**

"**Too late."**

**She startled and grabbed his wrist. "Locke-"**

"**Calm down."**

"**Don't you dare-"**

"**I promise, I will never permanently leave you behind-"**

"**I-"**

**He caught her other hand. "I promise, I will speak to you every day of the rest of my life, over a phone, in person, or through a message, unless you decide to leave my company."**

"**You know I won't leave you. I could get angry, but I know I'll always try to find you. I'm angry at you now but all I want is to be with you."**

"**You may change your mind. You've only known me here."**

"**You've caused me I don't know how much grief and I'm still willing to follow you wherever you're going. Where are you going?"**

"**London."**

"**England?"**

"**You're in England now, Emily."**

"**I thought so."**

"**Sherlock, you're giving her a proper name." Walking away from the confusing pair, he warned, "Sarah won't put up with this mess of calling her a different name every five minutes."**

"**Well, she can pick one out."**

"**You can help me remember, friend. Sherlock would let me forget it."**

"**Not if you make it a challenge or experiment, to see how long it takes you to absorb your name into your long-term memory." John smugly grinned at his glare, trying not to trip as they walked to the door. "I'm John."**

"**What's your wife's name?"**

"**Hey-!"**

"**Wedding ring, John. I guessed you were straight."**

"**Oh, I'm going to like having you 'round. Her name is Sarah."**

**She hummed approvingly. "Pretty name."**

"**Nimue is Welsh for memory."**

"**Sounds like mumbling."**

"**Rosemary?"**

"**I refuse to help name a girl after a toxic plant."**

"**Thank you!"**

"**My grandmother was named Rosemary."**

"**And I bet she was a lovely person."**

"**She could go into politics, if she just gets the smug off her face. Poppy?"**

"**Cheap."**

"**Simra?"**

"**I don't want to be named after a Hindu god."**

**They stared at her.**

"**What? I can remember that! Follow me into the kitchen, I'm going to cook something."**

"**Good, I'm starving."**

"**Me, too. That must have been a hell of a walk."**

**The men exchanged a glance, Sherlock warning, John alarmed. "Er-"**

"**We had a footrace. Harmony?"**

"**A bit boring."**

"**Minnie?"**

"**Shrill."**

**She uncertainly entered his room. "I'm sorry to bother."**

"**I'm not sleeping. What's wrong?"**

"**I keep feeling scared and angry and I don't know why. I really wanted to be near you for a while."**

"**That's quite alright. You had a scare earlier today."**

**Sitting on the edge of the bed, she watched him play a soft melody.**

"**Did you put the bag away?"**

**She dug a list out of her robe pocket. "All this? Every line has a notch in it, and I remember putting a bag in that closet."**

"**Good."**

"**Are we going somewhere?"**

**He watched her look over the torn paper list, smirking when the corners of her mouth twitched upwards. She knew where the paper and 'ink' had come from. "I'm taking you with John and myself when we leave tomorrow."**

"**Where are we going?"**

"**To live in a flat quite near his, near a park, in London. He won't be joining us."**

"**Where is he going?"**

"**Back to his wife and his flat."**

"**Oh."**

**He sat down in the dressing chair. "We will need to assemble a little book for you to carry in your pocket."**

"'**Return to Sherlock'?"**

"**It'll be easier for you to keep track of things. A wristwatch, paper, pens, a calendar."**

"**Would some henna ink lists on my arms be a good idea?"**

**That was worth a small smile. "I'd considered that, but I'm not sure what all you'd be up to. I have enemies. If you end up in their hands, I want you to be able to play ignorant."**

"**Shouldn't be too hard." She yawned and rolled her shoulders.**

**A combination of sunlight streaming through the bratty huge windows and the faint tinkle of china woke John.**

"**Sir? Your friend said you would enjoy an eight o'clock breakfast."**

**He sat up, confused at the posh surroundings.**

**Right. Mycroft's secret prison/palace. The nameless blue maid laying out a royal breakfast on a tiny table, a decorative trolley beside the table holding what overflowed from the table.**

"**If you need any other beverages, just ring the bell. Same if the food doesn't meet your taste."**

"**I doubt it could be a problem, Bluebell." He swung his legs over the side of the bed, sheepishly accepting the robe she handed over. "You don't have to be so formal. I'm Sherlock's friend."**

**Her eyes suddenly sparked, but still she firmly shook her head. "Sorry, sir, but I'll only accept that if he says it."**

"**Fair enough. Is he having breakfast?"**

**He received a very disapproving glare from darkening eyes. "Maybe."**

"**Oh, right, he doesn't eat breakfast."**

"**I'll be leaving, now. Ring if you need anything."**

**John groaned and headed for the toilet. "Failed that one."**

**Mycroft arrived in time for a brunch.**

"**Stretch limo. How's the diet going?"**

"**Oh, Louise, you're too kind," he smiled passably as she brought a cart into the green room. The room instantly smelled like warm pastries and a hot breakfast.**

"**Quiche Lorraine." She set triplet miniature egg tarts in front of each man, and arranged a tea service and trays of other foods in the middle of the table. "Ring if you need me, sirs."**

**After his third bite of the meal, Mycroft crisply patted his mouth and tolerantly glared at his sibling. "You're planning on bringing her, aren't you?"**

"**She'd be scared out her mind, here, after becoming so used to not being alone."**

"**Adele informed me that the security feed showed her preparing to stab herself," he casually remarked. "You're sure a puppy wouldn't be a good substitute? A dark cocker spaniel?"**

"**Don't tease."**

"**Don't plot against me, little brother," Mycroft warningly taunted. "Didn't your fall teach you anything?"**

"**Aren't you done manipulating that to your ends?"**

"**About. It will be finished tomorrow." His eyes were a bit sad. "You'll be vindicated. It should keep anyone from toying with you too much in the future."**

"**He tricked us both, Mycroft. Back to Violet."**

**John looked back and forth between the two of them. "Am I invisible? There's a whole conversation going on that I can't hear."**

"**You know I won't beg. You mock the Americans for Guantanamo Bay."**

"**If I can fix what we blundered into, don't you think I can fix her problems?"**

"**You were planning on releasing someone to them?"**

"**Her medical records should be enough." He looked smug, showing as much emotion as either of them ever tended to. "John will be so busy, with a wife and work. Mrs. Hudson isn't available anymore."**

**Sherlock glared. "I am going to pretend you planned this all along."**

"**Little brother, did I break your toy for the day?"**

"**I'd rather have you on my side, yes, but not having a puppet in my house."**

"**She's too broken even to be a puppet. She's more of a wind-up-"**

"**Shut up!"**

"**Boys, stop goading each other." John made himself a cup and sat back, looking more relaxed than he really felt. "So, she's coming with us, and you're going to clear up this whole misunderstanding with the public and authorities."**

"**Yes. You'll have an easier time with him this time around, John. Louise should help with that."**

"**I suppose I should thank you for saving my marriage, then, Mycroft."**

"**As you like."**

"**Spoiled children in big fancy shoes, you both are."**

"**Don't manipulate her, Mycroft."**

"**Only as much as you do."**

**She was quite nervous as they left, and sagged with emotional exhaustion as soon as they were past the third gate.**

"**I know I'm being silly, you could stuff me back in there easily, but I'm so relieved."**

"**I agree."**

"**How long are we going to be in the pedomobile?"**

**Mycroft sighed, unflustered. "It's a privacy limo, and several hours."**

"**Rich pedomobile."**

**John decided to put a technique from his pediatrics turn nearly a decade earlier to work. "Diane, we're going to be in here quite a while. Why don't we all just be quiet?"**

"**Sounds fantastic. In the future, please don't be condescending to me."**

"**We've arrived."**

**John stepped out onto the sidewalk in front of his building. "How worried should I be?"**

"**Not at all. It's 1:15, you're hungry and a little haggard, you just got off work. I'm going to be tossing Sherlock and Lanette in their flat."**

**Sherlock sighed, surveying the sets in front of him. "This is nice."**

"**Harrington Road is a fine area. I walk to work most mornings."**

"**Come on, Julie." Sherlock gave her a hand to help her, trembling, out of the car.**

"**It's a quiet city!"**

"**Yes."**

**Mycroft made quick strides towards a nearby door. "This way, if you please."**

"**Anytime," John sighed, heading for his entrance.**

"**What floor will we be on."**

"**The third."**

**The interior was nice. Updated Edwardian, occasional potted plants in faux-wood pots, linoleum floor.**

"**Flat 321B."**

"**Very funny."**

"**When we saw it was available, we couldn't resist."**

"**Did you make the selection, or your PA?"**

"**Does it matter?"**

"**I suppose not."**

**As soon as Mycroft unlocked the door, their female accompaniment rushed in and started running from room to room.**

"**Get settled in. Note anything reasonable you need."**

**Frantic exploration of the flat done, she stopped in front of them, eyes wide. "Locke?"**

"**Yes."**

"**There's only one bed."**

"**We were only outfitting this flat for one person. My apologies."**

**She ran off again.**

"**Mycroft, that is unacceptable."**

**His older brother gave him a bored look.**

"**Mycroft."**

"**There's no foldout, but the couch is big enough to sleep on," she called, unaware that she was mostly being ignored.**

"**Please don't insult my intelligence division."**

"**What people choose to do is a different matter from what it is ethical to force them to do!"**

"**There's a couch."**

"**Thank God."**

"**These boxes are full of science equipment." There was a pause. "And books."**

**Sherlock relaxed his irritation a bit. Mycroft had saved his things, and had them delivered. "Don't touch those things, please. They're delicate."**

"**Okay. I'm going to poke around and find more important things to put away."**

**They saw her cross the end of the hall and walk into the kitchen. "Pantry's empty. So's the fridge."**

"**Order in tonight. No one can see you until tomorrow afternoon."**

"**Make a list, Danielle."**

"**If I can find a pen!"**

**The following morning, knocking on the door woke them both from their sleep on the ample bed. She rushed to the door. "Hello?"**

"**Parcels for Sir Locke. Sign?"**

"**I can't-"**

"**I'll sign for it. Open these up for me."**

**When the delivery man was gone, he found she was laying out a suit on the bed and reading a note, more boxes unattended in the middle of the bed.**

"**From your brother Mycroft. Pick up at 10:30 am. He says, 'Wear everything. You can't arrive in a sheet, this time.' What?"**

"**Order in some breakfast, just enough for you. I'll be out of the shower as quickly as possible."**

"**But where are we going?"**

"**Buckingham Palace."**

**He got out of the shower just as she finished laying out his outfit. Mycroft had remembered everything, down to his favorite type of comb.**

"**It's very fancy."**

**Your food isn't here?" Getting his hair decently dry was going to take some time.**

"**It should be, soon." She uncertainly started to leave the room. "Am I not going?"**

"**You are, dear. Don't worry."**

**The doorbell rang, and her frightened voice traveled from the foyer.**

"**How do I pay?"**

"**Here!" He slid a charge card from the new wallet under the door.**

"**Thank you!"**

"**Hurry and eat."**


	4. Chapter 4

**Ten-thirty arrived, just as he finished adjusting her hat. "There."**

"**I'm so glad you knew how to do that."**

"**I'm glad you knew how to do everything else." Lifting her chin with a finger, he quickly looked her over. "With a bit of direction."**

**Her light makeup wasn't garish, her clothes were on perfectly, she looked every part an Englishwoman out for a semi-professional formal occasion. Sedate aqua pencil skirt, white silk blouse, pearls, and matching aqua bolero. The stockings and shoes were just giving her some trouble.**

"**You saw how many tries the mascara took."**

"**You were brave to let that brush that near your eyes." He gestured for her to keep practicing her walking. The heels Mycroft had sent over were insanely tall.**

"**I don't think I'll be able to do much in these."**

"**It's to keep you from wandering off."**

"**I guess that works."**

**The doorchime rang.**

"**Are you all ready?"**

**He nodded and offered her his arm. "Let's go."**

'**I am so bored.' Sherlock continued to school his expression, decency requiring that he incline his head.**

'**As soon as we leave, I'm going straight over to John's. Monet can make a grocery list, I'll leave her John's address and a note, she'll come over when she's ready, and we all can go grocery shopping. If a crowd masses, I can slip out and they can finish the shopping. John wouldn't leave her in a market.'**

**When finally gestured to do so, he stood. 'Hopefully his wife won't be too much trouble. Monet might be able to calm her down and keep her occupied. What is she, a nurse?'**

**Facing all the gathered people and cameras, he took the opportunity to check on Jenny. She was sitting in the front row- by Mummy. Oh, crap. Mycroft was breaking the rules on that one. She was tired of all the sitting, expected given the long speeches that had come before the ceremony, but smiling broadly for him.**

**Sherlock bowed to the cameras, shamelessly blinking at the lights flashing all around him. Make the dicks work harder to get a good picture for every one they took.**

"**It helps if you look at the rear ceiling," the Queen Mother gently suggested. "The lights won't stun you so."**

"**Thank you."**

"**No, I honestly do thank you. The Holmes have given much."**

"**Following my being blackmailed into faking my death by a psychopath, my brother kidnapped me and put me in a luxurious prison, Your Highness. It wasn't by choice."**

**She paused at that. "Consider it an apology present?"**

"**Since this public ceremony was the only way to clear my name so I could return to some facsimile of my previous life, I consider it a fair gesture of apology." He smiled slightly and nodded to her.**

"**You are a biting one," she murmured. "Intelligent and scathing, but honest. I shall have to retain your contact information for the family."**

**There was only one decent thing to say to that. "I would be delighted."**

**She smiled softly and began to leave the room, ignoring calls from the press for further statements.**

**If she was leaving, so could he. He followed suit, walking directly to Mummy and the girl. Mycroft was kind enough to escort them to a quiet room nearby, like the one they had waited in.**

"**So, little brother, what were you thinking about? You looked so bored."**

"**Grocery shopping."**

**Rose giggled.**

**Mummy simply shook her head. "It's never enough for you, Sherlock. I do hope one day you find enough to keep your mind busy." Her eyes slid towards the girl.**

"**Mummy, you know I have no intentions in that area."**

"**I am allowed to beg for grandchildren."**

"**Raising a child seems to be a draining waste," Sherlock remarked. "No guarantee as to how they will turn out, and it seems every one that isn't deficient is constantly making trouble."**

"**I guess it's a very serviceable system that women look so fine and men are impulsive," Maria lightly remarked.**

**Mummy chuckled. "Naughty! Should I be worried at my son keeping your company?"**

"**I doubt I could get him into any trouble he wouldn't find on his own."**

"**True, that. I'll have to tell you some stories about all the things he got into as a child. He took the Hi-Fi apart with my nail file when he was three!"**

**Only two people in the group could read the haze over her eyes to know she was confused and unsure. "Sounds about right."**

**After a quiet lunch, they were allowed to return to Harrington Road.**

"**Dress in something good for grocery shopping."**

"**My regular dress won't do?"**

"**Without the apron, it'll be fine. Someone will have to take you clothes shopping." He sat on the too-soft couch, knees drawn up under his chin. "Or I could set you loose on the internet with the charge card."**

"**How'm I supposed to shop for clothes on the internet?"**

"**Online stores, once you know your measurements." He leaned forward, looking around the room. "Have you come across a computer or laptop in this place? Mycroft knows I can't survive without one."**

**She dug around in one of the boxes on the coffee table. "Here."**

"**Good."**

"**It's your old one, isn't it? Most of the boxes are from your old home, and then there's some from the manor." She wandered off when she noticed he was too busy on the computer to reply.**

**Now would be a good time to unpack the kitchen.**

"**No, Marlowe, go get dressed. Maid outfit, no apron."**

"**Yessir!"**

"**-believe how arrogant that man is!"**

**Peeling her eyes off the door's silver numbers, Marlowe looked up at Sherlock. "Maybe this is the wrong door."**

**The voice continued. "He disappears for three years-"**

"**Barely two and a half, dear."**

"**-kidnaps you for two days, lies to me, then rings us up the day after asking if we'd like to host tea!"**

"**Mycroft kidnapped me, the same as Sherlock was kidnapped. Besides, he's still unpacking, and I'm betting he's trying to find a way to be social without leaving you out."**

"**The man in a social rhino!"**

**She snickered. "We need to knock. She'll be horribly embarrassed if she knows we're hearing this."**

"**She's our neighbor. If she doesn't want us to hear it, she shouldn't be screaming it. Besides, never let anyone make you ashamed of your opinion. Unless it's based on false data." He sighed, looking down at her. "We want to start the relationship on a good note, right?"**

"**Yes. It's John's wife. We're going to have to deal with her for a while, I expect."**

"**And eight months of John grieving after that, and then the years of dating attempts-"**

"**Be nice! You're not wishing him a divorce!"**

**Unexpectedly, the door swung open, revealing a slightly weary looking John.**

"**Did you not sleep well last night?" she immediately asked.**

"**I got called in. Come on in, Sherlock, Missy. There was a bus crash and I was helping in the trauma surgery until this morning." He glared at his friend. "I blame your brother."**

"**You missed the big thing this morning, then." She danced into the seating area and held her hand out. "You must be John's missus! Congratulations and it's a pleasure to meet you!"**

"**Oh, thank you."**

"**He spoke about you so much, especially about how his phone had been taken away and he couldn't talk to you. And he had a really hard time sleeping alone."**

**As the men watched, Sarah smiled, shoulders lowering and a sweet blush lighting her face. "Oh, John."**

"**We're planning on getting you a belated wedding present. Are you registered anywhere?"**

"**Not anymore, I'm sure. It's been more than a year since the wedding." She gestured towards the sofa and chairs. "What was the big event this morning?"**

"**I was knighted-"**

"**What?" John cried, lit with shock. "You didn't call me!"**

"**I wasn't allowed to invite anyone. It had to be a big public surprise." He apologetically shrugged, sitting beside herself. "That's how Mycroft got my name cleared for the whole world to see."**

"**Makes great sense. We'll have to watch the news at 5. So, who did it?" John accepted a cup from his wife.**

"**The Queen."**

"**Mycroft went all out, I suppose."**

"**I narrowly escaped with all my hair."**

**A pause after, Sarah teased, "I know Sherlock Holmes, of course, but you never did tell me your name, dear."**

"**I don't know it," she very quietly replied.**

**Sherlock reached over and, taking the teacup from her hand, shook her by her far shoulder.**

"**Sherlock!"**

"**There, she's out of it." Loosing a more alert seatmate, Sherlock handed her back her tea. "You must not say the 'd' word to her. It's a hypnotic trigger."**

"**For what?"**

"**Pacific attitude, listening to instructions. I'm not sure what all it does, but it was thoroughly implanted before I met her." He met Sarah's eyes. "She doesn't have a name. John said you might feel equipped to name her."**

"**What do you call her, then?"**

"**Random women's names. Though, she hates the names Gertrude and Helga." He smiled at her.**

**She wrinkled her nose. "They just sound bad! Heavy German cook names."**

"**I don't blame you. Now, why are you dressed like a maid?"**

"**The place where I was held, they kept me as a maid."**

"**She was in a safe house. Sarah, love, she has an inability to turn short-term memories into long-term memories, an injury that ties in with the reason some American intelligence wanted her dead for a while-"**

"**They still want her dead, they just think she's already dead."**

**Sarah's eyebrows rose higher and higher and she set down her cup as she listened to the explanation.**

"**Well, they don't know where she is. Part of the British government kept her in a top-secret rural safe house where they occasionally drop off people like Sherlock, people they need hidden for a while. She was more a housekeeper and cook than a maid, but she was there ten years."**

"**Ten years!"**

"**Nine, as far as I've managed to verify," Sherlock cautioned.**

"**Wha- She looks like a little college student! She's been hidden away nine years, really? Why didn't someone do something!"**

"**That's why she's with me."**

"**How does a teenager get into that sort of trouble? What did she see?"**

"**She saw nothing. I'm not sure what happened, but she was in her early twenties at the time. She's thirty-one now."**

**The girl in blue faked a shiver. "I'm going to like having some sort of name, whenever it gets settled. It's a little creepy, just being called 'She'."**

"**I'm sorry, Selde. I usually refer to her by random names. She seems to like the ones that start with 'M', like Marlowe."**

**She wrinkled her nose. "It's a cute name, but isn't that a boy's name?"**

"**My Mummy's Christian name is Marlowe, thank you very much!" he feigned offense. "Marlowe Avageth Holmes nee Whitby."**

**Sarah snickered, trying unsuccessfully to hide it behind her cup. "Sherlock, Mycroft, Marlowe. You have very odd family names."**

"**I like Marlowe."**

"**Fantastic. I can't wait to tease Mycroft about that."**

"**5 o'clock! News time!"**

**When the news went off, John and Sherlock were scowling.**

"**I can't believe they were crude enough to run that story," Sarah frowned, gathering up the tea.**

**John followed her. The story left a disturbed feeling in him. "I know it's unreasonable, but I hope no one believes it."**

"**You shouldn't care what they think."**

"**But I'm not gay! I've been screaming it for six bloody years! Mmph."**

**Johns protests were cut off by some commotion in the kitchen.**

**Smirking, Marlowe gazed up at Sherlock. "So, I'm your little bounce-back girl, hm?"**

"**I refuse to respond to that question."**

"**Do you have a maid fetish?"**

"**No, but I do have a wit fetish."**

**From the kitchen came the sound of muffled laughter.**

"**Well, we should head off. There's plenty of unpacking, and Lestrade is going to call me as soon as is convenient for him tomorrow."**

"**Why?"**

"**He'll have a stack of cases." He lead her to the door.**

"**Oh- goodnight!"**

**As he closed the door, Sherlock smirked. "And good luck!"**

**Marlowe finished unpacking the kitchen that night and assembled a long list of things she wanted, having been spoiled by the kitchen in the mansion. She also made a list of other things she wanted.**

**Sherlock, meanwhile, had gotten distracted by trying to figure out which of his books was more important and needed a place on the insufficient shelf space. She handed him the list and gave him a break from the arduous task.**

" '…**., Sewing machine, trundle bed-' Marlowe!"**

"**Yes?" Suds nearly dripped off her hands as stepped back into the living room.**

"**Is there a problem with us sharing the bed?"**

"**I thought you might want your space."**

"**It's not an issue for me."**

"**Okay."**

"**Do you really need an industrial mixer?"**

**She thought for a moment. "Not right now. I'd like one at some point. I like making cakes and cookies and homemade bread."**

"**Agreed." Never disagree with the cook on cooking implements, he mentally reminded himself. She was constantly serving him fresh, good meals, four times a day.**

**The doorbell rang.**

"**Who is it?"**

"**Just open up."**

"**The door is open!"**

**He smelled him before he even saw him. A broad grin crept over his cheeks. "Yes, Anderson? Ooh, and Donovan!"**

"**You probably already know why we're here."**

"**Yes, I do." He set down the list in his hand and glared at them, still grinning. "Lestrade made you two do it. Oh, he is in a amusing mood."**

"**Shut up, grab your kit, and let's go."**

"**I believe I outrank you, Detective Anderson."**

**The man's jaw trembled. "If you're ready, sir, the car is downstairs and it's raining on **_**your**_** crime scene."**

"**Marlowe!"**

"**Yes?"**

"**I have to go." He hurriedly wrote a note. "Put this note in your pocket."**

**She read it and did so, wiping her hands dry beforehand. "Yessir."**

"**A maid." Donovan rolled her eyes. "Can't stand to get your hands dirty before the blood and guts?"**

"**Marlowe's place with me is a little over your head, Donovan." He smiled at Marlowe. "Goodnight, Marlowe."**

"**Goodnight, Sherlock." She jokingly curtsied as the door shut.**

"**That's the first five." Lestrade directed several officers to deposit boxes on the newly cleared coffee table.**

** The prior night's case had been fairly simple. Lestrade had intended to first re-contact him that morning but a 'bomb' had hit a restaurant. The police were now busy tracking down the dark Land Rover that had crashed into the eater and killed four people.**

** Now, he was delivering some semi-cold cases for Sherlock. The man was grinning at the boxes.**

** Donovan raised an eyebrow, leaning in the kitchen. "Marlowe, was it? Awww, John got married so he went an' picked up another pet."**

** Out of sight but not unheard, she hummed. "You know, the world would be a much better place if all women followed one simple rule."**

** "Background check your boyfriends?"**

** "Stop fucking stupid men and allowing yourself to be manipulated just because daddy never hugged you."**

** "Language, Marlowe! Only idiots curse, and I know you possess better vocabulary than that."**

"**Crude, simple words for crude, simple minds." She coolly stepped around the agape officer and smiled at all the others. "Anyone here I should know?"**

** "Lestrade's an old friend, Donovan is a regular nuisance. Iridescent purple threads; Kite material, a clubbing shirt, child's costume-" He leaned closer to a crime scene photo.**

** "Text or email. Come on, fellows, everyone out. And keep track of those case numbers!"**

**Marlowe ended up doing that. She took dictation, typing up Sherlock's words and advice on each case, keeping notes on each in a separate, marked file on the computer. It all was mailed to Lestrade at the end of the day.**

** To: **

**You know you're now equal to me in rank. There's all sorts of cases piled up in other units for you. Take your pick and call the officer in charge- drugs, smuggling, high burglary, plenty.'**

** To: .**

"**I'd rather start back where I left off." **

**I think the murders get his blood pumping more. I'll try to tease him with some of the rarities in smuggling.**

** To: .**

**John Watson and I are going to do interesting things with your internal organs if you try to get Sherlock near drugs. He's been stuck in a cranky mood all day because of the mention of it. Have a little sensitivity.**

** To: **

** How can you tell when he's in a bad mood?**

** Really, though, I am sorry. I didn't think too hard about that.**

**Somewhere, she obtained a huge slab of corkboard, taller than her and four steps long. It was set up in the hallway, where normal people put up family portraits and shadowboxes. Things that interested her were on one half, and things she put up for him were on the other. **

**News of the week, current events, a calendar. Impressive dossiers were sometimes to be found tacked to it. She pried information out of the internet, Anthea, and Lestrade on any new and significant persons in the news. **

**On the other side were cell phone snapshots of their acquaintances and a brief mention of how she knew them. If you came to the door, or passed it regularly, she had your picture there.**

**A decent example was the only Thai restaurant boy who dared deliver to them. When she took his picture and said she wouldn't pull a gun on him again, he had believed her. He received very nice tips.**

**If you lifted the basic description, you could see a candid report of their personality that Marlowe thought she had hidden well.**

**Out of sight behind the photo of more important people, like Sarah, was a notecard with a list of favorite colors, cuisine types, etc. Sherlock occasionally added his own appendix to these notes, but she begged him not to erase or ink over what she had written.**


End file.
